Meanwhile, an exhibition can’t open because a few people (none of whom, as far as I can tell, are related to the artist’s past or present models) don’t like topless photography. Yes the issue is very complicated, but it pales in comparison to all the indigenous women and children in Walgett who have been seriously assaulted and then have to keep living in the same community as their attacker. I don’t like arguments that begin with “we can’t even talk about the ethics of that because we should all focus on this bigger thing”, but in this case it is (partly) a matter of NSW Police resourcing. It is also about media attention, and the way politicians answer questions, and a lot of knee-jerking.

I had promised myself not to write about art here, because I do enough of that elsewhere, so to get back to gardening:

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Just looking at this photo makes me think of gardening, and gardening is dirty.

I’m going to rush home and put little tshirts on all my teenage broad beans.

Actually, the broad beans were the only things that survived the carnage when the chooks got into my vegie patch last week. It was a very depressing day. They dug under the fence. I got home and the whole thing had been dug up, they’d eaten the snow pea shoots and everything else was chewed so much it had to be mercy killed. None of it was big but I’d grown it from seed and you know how long that takes at this time of year.

There was a recipe in the Age on the weekend for a stew with daikon in it, did you see?